


The Best We Could Do

by Cozy_coffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Community: comment_fic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hoodies, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Sharing Clothes, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/pseuds/Cozy_coffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the comment_fic prompt; Any, Any, “Will you stop worrying. Have I ever hurt you? I will never hurt you, I can't hurt you. We've got the same blood. We're not two people, we are one person! Would I hurt me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best We Could Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



Once upon a time, Sam had no trouble getting to sleep, but that was way, way back when he was a kid—before he knew of demons and monsters. Back when he was still innocent. He would cuddle up with the old ratty teddy bear Dean stole from the last house they squatted in and when Dean snuggled with him and wrapped his arms around him and held him through the night, he slept peacefully.

Yet these days dreams do not come easy.

Sam doesn’t sleep much, if at all, anymore. With all hell breaking down around them he is running on fumes, held together by a very thin thread. Night after night he tosses and turns, his mind spinning with worry and exhaustion and Dean has had enough of watching Sam suffer. The elder Winchester refuses to watch his ailing brother burn out like a blue flame. It was in his nature to protect Sam; he had done it all his life—now was no different.

Lying together in bed, Dean doesn’t hesitate, just reaches out with two loving arms and tucks his big little brother into his embraces. Sam presses in deep, swaddling his body into the hug that is warm and harmonizing, hiding his face in Dean’s chest as he hugs him tightly. Sam hums against him, soft and content; his chest expanding with a big deep breath before slowing breathing out, a sensation of peace and harmony bathing his soul with tenderness.

Dean can work magic like that, solve any problem in the blink of an eye with a hug, his sheltering embraces somehow pushing the worry and fear and exhaustion out of his brother because he feels Sam melt, every tense muscles in his body giving way until he is lax and loose and warm and soft, Sam closing his eyes and taking in a slow, deep calming breath to breath in Dean's leather and whiskey scent.

The embrace takes him back in time, a memory coming to his mind from his childhood…

John is starting to believe this might've been a bad idea. Scratch that; he knows for certain this was a terrible idea. But what could he do? Dean was old enough to start school; however, Sammy was still too young. Thankfully, it was only half a day, but breaking his boys up and seeing Sammy so miserable still shattered his heart.

Sammy is Dean’s consent shadow, always trotting along after him and mimicking him, trying to be just like his big brother, and when Dean pull him close to hug him Sam lights up like fireworks on the fourth of July, smiling so brightly his dimples sparkle.

Now, the little boy is beside himself with sorrow and throwing the biggest tantrum John’s ever seen—little balled up fists pounding on the carpet as he cries and his big puppy dog eyes moist with sorrowful tears. He turned wide, broken eyes to his father, weeping and sniffling, keeps asking, “When is Dean gonna come home?” Sammy sniffles, gazing at John with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Soon, buddy. I promise.” John’s heart breaks as he picks up his baby boy and holds him to his chest to pat Sammy’s back soothingly. He manages to rock Sammy to sleep with a soothing lullaby, but the little boy continues to sniffle in his slumber, whimpers for his big brother from time to time.

John did not know his heart could splitter like this, had only felt it break once when he lost his beloved wife. By the time Dean comes home, waving goodbye to his friend from school and her mother who dropped him off, John too feels like crying after spending hours listing to his little boy cry.

“Sammy, buddy, wake up,” John whispers as he gently pats Sammy’s back. “Wake up, Sammy. Someone’s here to see you.”

Sleepy hazel eyes open, and the first thing Sammy sees is his big brother smiling down at him. The little boy squeals with excitement and immediately throws himself into Dean’s arms, embracing him with a big bear hug.

Sam’s arms circled his waist, burrowing into Dean’s chest and hugging with all his little might. “Dean! Your home! I missed you so much!”

Dean swings Sam around and around, hugs him tightly as John watches with a smile on his face.

The memory leaves him and he returns to now, hugging Sam tightly as his brother lies peacefully in his arms. While Dean is not a fan of snuggling, he is not big into chick flick moments; there is nothing he would not do if it meant keeping Sam safe, protecting him from the demons and monsters of this world.

This is the life of a Winchester. It’s filled with blood and violence and loss. But they have each other, they’ve always had each other, even during times like now when the hunt nearly parts them. 

Sam sits up slowly and leans into Dean’s embrace, reached his fingers out to curl around the golden amulet hanging from his brother’s neck. He blinks away the flashing black spots dancing in his gaze, slowly watching them fade while attempting to steady his rough breathing.

For a moment he is disoriented. He’s not sure where he. What’s going on? Every bone in his body aches. The floor is hard and cold underneath him and everything around him is hazy. His mind spins. He let out a little gasp when a shock of pain trembled through him. He comes to his senses slowly as the ringing in his ears fades.

With his fingers still clasped in Dean’s amulet, Sam placed his other hand over his brother’s heart; the quick thumping is soothing. He sways a bit, even sitting his center of balance is off, but Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s shoulders and holds him close, grounding him. Sam leans in closer, tucked to his brother’s chest with his head resting on him; he could feel Dean’s heart beating against his cheek.

The church bells in Sam’s ears are fading out yet the scent of sulfur is ripe; the demon has been sent back to Hell and the hunt was complete. Still, the room lingers with the aroma of death and blood, the stench is foul. Sam’s stomach churns sickly.

Dean brushes Sam’s hair out of his face and palms his cheeks while checking him over for injuries; Sam is not hurt except for taking a knock to the head when the demon sent him flying into the wall. His head hurts like a son of a bitch, but it is certainly not the worst injury he has sustained while hunting.

“’m okay, Dean,” Sam assures. He pats Dean’s chest, exhaling sharply as the adrenaline burns in his veins. He’d been through much worse, so has Dean, therefore there is no reason for all the worry. But Dean is the protective big brother and he doesn’t stop his hands from roaming over Sam in search of injuries. He needs to know for certain that Sam is alive and safe.

Sam is banged up, but well. Another hunt, another monster tossed back to Hell, and the aftermath is always the same; it is almost a ritual of Dean’s. His big brother latches onto him as his eyes scan for injury’s, touching his arms to feel flesh and bone as if to assure his mind and heart that Sam is really with him, and had not been killed and once again taken away from him.

When Dean finds no threat that Sam is gravely hurt he hauls him up with strength, rising to their feet and tugging Sam’s arm over his shoulder and together they stumble out of the warehouse and fall into the Impala, beat up and bloody, but safe and together.

Dean takes the first shower once they have returned to the motel, only after asking if Sam wants dibs. Sam’s head is throbbing, and he just wants to slide under the blankets and sleep, therefore he gives up the shower to his brother, kicking off his shoes and jacket before tumbling down onto the soft bed.

He doesn’t realize he has fallen asleep until Dean climbs in next to him, dressed in a pair of boxers and one of Sam’s big, oversized cotton hoodies. Sam smiles and tugs Dean closer by the hem of his, or rather Sam’s, hoodie; just having his brother close to him takes the throb in his head away.

Snuggling close, Sam falls asleep with his head on his brother’s chest, holding his brother close to him as he sleeps peacefully, safe in his big brothers embrace.

♥ END ♥

**Author's Note:**

> [Written for this prompt!](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/801333.html?thread=102626101#t102626101)


End file.
